


The Visitor

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU: Established Relationship, Angst, Betrayal, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, John's past, M/M, Romance, Sherlock Cries, Sherlock tries to be romantic, Silly Sexy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock forgot their anniversary and desperately wants to make it up to John. But when John brings a stranger into the flat, Sherlock worries his error might cost him his relationship. Or is it John who has made a fatal mistake?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock Tries To Make It Up To John

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe. 
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Sherlock had cleaned the flat. It was unusual, but he had felt so bad about not remembering their anniversary yesterday that when he woke up alone, he had panicked that John had left him. He immediately remembered that John was just at work, but that feeling reminded him that maybe he took John too much for granted. So when he got up and walked into the sitting room, he decided he'd devote the day to doing things just for John.

He started by cleaning the flat. A proper clean. All the piles of papers, all the evidence that turned out not to be evidence at all -- all the things John had complained of, he got rid of. He sat down with a cup of tea and looked around the flat. It looked better, but it was not enough.

He went out and got some flowers and ordered a meal for the evening. All Sherlock had to do was heat it up -- it wasn't quite the same as cooking for John, but Sherlock wasn't a good cook anyway so this would be as close as he could get. He bought a bottle of wine and returned to the flat.

After putting the flowers into a vase, he set the table and then sat down to wait. After a few minutes, he stood back up and put some music on. Then he sat down again to wait for John to come home.

John decided to walk home to give himself a bit more time away from the flat. He wasn't still mad exactly, but he didn't really know how he felt about Sherlock forgetting their anniversary. With a brain like his it was hard to believe, and he was always a bit nervous that he was too boring for Sherlock. Maybe this was a sign that he was getting close to being done with John.

He shook the thought away because he really did not like thinking about that. He took a deep breath and told himself he just had to accept that things with Sherlock were different than in other relationships. When he walked into the flat he went upstairs quietly, pausing in the door. For a second he thought he'd walked into the wrong building. It was clean, there were flowers, and he smelled real food cooking. "Sherlock?" He stepped in and toed off his shoes, hanging his jacket.

Sherlock turned to look over at John. "Welcome home," he said. He stood up and moved to give him a soft kiss. "I wanted to do something nice for you," he said, by way of explanation. "Dinner will be ready in about a half hour. Do you want a cup of tea first?" He stood up and moved to the kitchen as he asked how John's day was.

John walked into the flat slowly, admiring the place. It looked pretty good. "Trying to suck up, are you?" he teased lightly, following him into the kitchen. He touched the flowers lightly as he passed.

"Don't spoil it," Sherlock said. "I'm trying to be . . . romantic. You know I'm not good at that, but I wanted to try."

"You should have been yesterday," John teased again, smiling and kissing his cheek. "Everything looks great, love."

"Don't be mean," Sherlock said. He grabbed John and gave him a proper kiss on the mouth. "Here's your tea. Now how was your day at work? Tell me."

"It was madness -- you know how flu season is," John said. "Can I help with anything here?"

"You poor thing," Sherlock said, petting his head and then stepped back. "All right, that might have been a bit too much. I don't need help with the food --  I've been slaving over the stove all day." He pulled a face at him. "I got wine as well. I just . . . I just wanted you to know how much I appreciated you. I know I never tell you and I should. And I should have yesterday. I'm sorry. But I do, John. I do." He looked over into John's eyes.

"I know, love. I'm only teasing you." John leaned up and kissed Sherlock again. "I don't feel unappreciated, Sherlock. Just . . . a bit forgotten yesterday," he smiled softly.

"I know, I understand. I know you know I love you, but I understand now it's important to remind you. I don't even mind the sentimentality, John, I'm just not used to it. So let's celebrate, just one day late, okay?" he kissed him again and got up to serve the food. "Will you pour the wine? It's opened already."

"Sure," John said. As he poured the wine he remembered about the text his friend had sent him -- someone he used to know from uni. Well, more than just knew. He glanced at Sherlock and wondered how he would feel about it, but he didn't want to bring it up now when they were celebrating. Maybe after dinner would be better. "What are we eating?"

"It's some kind of seafood pasta type thing. Don't get bogged down in details. It's safe and delicious, we'll enjoy it," Sherlock said.

"Pasta type thing?" John laughed. "You didn't cook anything, did you?" 

"Fine, I didn't actually cook it. Well, I warmed it -- that counts right? I got it Angelo's -- you know, where we had our first date? I should've put a candle on the table. Damn it. I will next year, I promise," Sherlock scooped some food onto their plates and then sat down. "There's some pastry for dessert." He smiled, but couldn't really see John because of the flowers so he moved them to the side and then smiled again.

John, who was already smiling, smiled wider at him. "We don't need the candle -- we both know this is romantic," he said. "Thank you, Sherlock. Like I said before, everything looks really great." 

Sherlock started to eat. It was pretty good actually, and he decided he must have played some role in making it taste that good. "Don't eat too much, though," Sherlock said, "I don't want you to feel too sleepy, even though I would like us to have an early night . . . if you know what I mean." He raised his eyebrows.

John laughed and shook his head. "Sorry, I have no idea what you're referring to. Can you please be a bit clearer?"  

"I have something that I'd like to give you in the bedroom, a little anniversary gift. It's in my trousers right now. Did I say trousers, I meant trouser pocket. But I'd definitely like to give it to you in the bedroom," Sherlock said, smiling cheekily.

John laughed louder. "What are you, a teenager again?" He smiled fondly and went back to his meal. "Hey, um, a friend of mine from uni is coming to town and wondered if he could stay with me for the weekend," John said casually. 

"Fine, but I'm more interested in your first comment. Are you saying you want to role play? We're teenagers and what? We go to prom? Take a shower in the locker room? I like when you let out your inner pervert," Sherlock said, raising his eyebrows again.

John expected his to ask a lot more about the friend, but he was glad Sherlock brushed it off. And he definitely liked when Sherlock was in a mood like this. He grinned and nodded. "Yeah, all right, we can play one of those games. Let's skip the prom and sneak right up to the room?"

"Fine, maybe you had a little too much to drink and your inhibitions are a bit down?" Sherlock said, "Maybe you'll let me go all the way this time instead of stopping after the blowjob like you usually do after our dates at the pizza shop?" If Sherlock had known anniversaries were all about this, perhaps he would have tried harder to remember.

John grinned. "I don't know . . . are you finally going to go steady with me? I won't give it to just anyone, you know."

"Fine, I'm a little drunk as well, so I'll finally wear your ring," Sherlock said. He took a sip of his wine. "I might get a little drunk for real to help my performance." He reached over and fiddled with John's hand.

"Oh, I'm not enough for you?" John asked, raising his brows. "I don't know if I want to give it to someone who needs to be stimulated by alcohol . . ."

"I'm just trying to show you how committed I am to the role," Sherlock said. "Come on, Johnny, drink up, I want us to go all the way tonight."

John smiled and drained his glass, pushing it forward for more. "Sherlock, I'm feeling a bit dizzy," he grinned. 

"Good, I like my boyfriends dizzy," Sherlock said but then his face went serious, "unless you mean it, I don't want you to feel sick. Are you just playing the game?"

"Yes," John nodded. "If I seriously want to stop, I will say . . . pineapple," he smiled. 

"All right, sorry, I just don't want you to throw up the food I just kind of cooked for you." He pushed his plate away a little. "Finish up. I want to go into the bedroom."

"I'm done. Let's go into the bedroom now," he said, pushing his chair back. 

"Good, I like an eager sex partner," Sherlock said. He stood up and grabbed John's hand. "Come on, boyfriend, there's something in my bedroom I want to give you. Don't worry, my parents are out for the evening."

John smiled and let himself be pulled along. "Is it sweets?" he asked. 

"Kind of . . . you _do_ put it in your mouth," Sherlock said.

John bit his lip to stifle a laugh. "I can't wait to try it," he said. 

"Good, lie down on the bed," Sherlock said, "but perhaps you might need to take your clothes off. I don't want you to get your prom tuxedo ruined. You'll have to return that in the morning."  
  
"Of course," John said, pulling off his trousers before sitting down on the bed. He pulled off his jumper and undershirt, looking at Sherlock again. "How am I going to eat sweets if I'm lying down?"

"Well, I need to get it ready for you," Sherlock said. He took off his clothes as well and then lay down next to John. He leaned over and started kissing John's face and then his neck. He lifted one of John's hand and moved it to Sherlock's cock. "Here, you get to work on this while I kiss up here."  
  
"Okay," he murmured, wrapping his fingers around Sherlock and stroked him slowly. He tilted his head with a small sigh. 

"For a teenager, you're quite good at that," Sherlock said. "I suppose you must practice on yourself quite a bit." He sucked hard on John's neck. "I love you, you know," he moaned against John's skin.

John's hand hitched a bit and he sucked in a small breath. "I love you, too."

Sherlock moved his hand down to John's cock and began stroking it. "You make me feel so good," he said, starting to move his hips just a bit.

 "Oh," John said, trying to sound surprised as he moved his hand to match Sherlock's movements. "Me too, Sherlock."

Sherlock said, "I might have some of that candy now," and he lowered himself down John's body. He licked John's cock up and down, even licking across John's balls, before moving back and sucking him into his mouth. He moved on him for a bit and then sat back up. "Want to taste mine for a second?"

John moaned softly, his fingers lacing into Sherlock's hair. But before he could get too worked up, he was moving away again. John nodded. "I really do," he murmured as he made to sit up.

"Only for a second though," Sherlock said, "because I've got other plans as well." He lay back on the bed and stroked himself as he was waiting for John's mouth.

John moved and crawled down between his legs. He glanced up at Sherlock with a smile and abandoned his teen persona, properly sucking Sherlock into his mouth and bobbing quickly. He only had a second after all.

"John," Sherlock exhaled at the feel of John's warm, wet mouth. He dropped a hand to John's shoulder. "You're so good at that," he moaned as he rocked his hips to John's movements.

John hummed around him, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks as he stroked Sherlock's thighs.

"All right," Sherlock said, "you'd better stop or as usual I'll become too distracted by your mouth to get to the good stuff and then you'll claim you've got to get home for an early class tomorrow and I won't get to do it to you." He sat up smiling and stroked John's cheek. "I really never thought I'd be pretending I had a teenager in my bed." He smiled. "Now get on the bed and spread your legs," he said, laughing as he pushed John down.

John pulled off with a small chuckle, crawling up and laying down on his back. He spread his legs and pulled his knees up a bit.

Sherlock crawled in between John's legs and then lay down flat on him, kissing him for a few minutes. Then he sat back up, pulled some lube from the drawer and covered his hands. He started to massage John's thighs and then between his legs, pausing his fingertips over John's hole. He smiled at John, dropping down to place a few kisses on his cock as he pushed a finger inside him.

John bit his lip and arched up just a bit. For the sake of the game, he made a small noise of surprise. He lifted his head to watch Sherlock until his neck became sore and he lay down again, bringing his fingers to Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock moved his finger in and out, before slowly pushing in a second. Then he leaned over John again so he could reach and covered his collarbone in kisses. He could feel both their breathing change and a warm electricity filling his body.

"Sherlock . . . .that feels . . . very good," John breathed, lacing his fingers into his hair.

"Good, I want you to feel good," Sherlock said, leaning up to kiss John's mouth. "I know I don't tell you like I should, but I love you." He separated his fingers a bit to stretch John before moving back again to between John's legs. He covered himself with lube and slowly pushed into John. He felt every twitch of John's muscles as his body moved to accommodate him. Then he leaned back over, holding himself up on one hand and started moving his body as his other dropped to stroke John's cock.

"I . . .ah-God . . . I love you, too Sherlock . . ." He could hardly get the words out through his moans. As many times as they did this, he never got used to how good it felt -- how intense.

Sherlock started to rock his body now -- a slow pulse with an occasional roll, which always made it seem like he could just feel John more. He leaned down and gave John some kisses on his mouth, neck and chest as Sherlock let out a few soft moans.

"God Sherlock . . . that's so good," John moaned, bucking up to meet him. He felt so full and stretched.

Sherlock slowed his movements a bit and concentrated on kissing John. He loved kissing John, tasting him, sometimes even biting him. Just because he could. His hand and hips moved slowly as he moved to suck along John's jaw line and down his neck.

"Tease," John murmured, thrusting up for more. He loved the slow fill of his body, but it was so good he couldn't stay patient enough to wait.

"So impatient," Sherlock said, smiling and starting to thrust more. His hand sped up on John's cock. "God, John, I love this . . . being like this with you," he tried to keep his eyes open to watch John's reactions to every movement.

"I love . . .you . . .and this," he murmured, pulling his knees up a bit to get him deeper, to feel more. "M'close . . ."

"I want to see you, it'll make me come," Sherlock said. He stroked furiously, sucking John's neck.

John moaned his name and threw his head back, coming into Sherlock's hand and arching his back a bit. He wanted to keep watching Sherlock, but his eyes closed in pleasure.

"Fuck, John," Sherlock's wet hand gripped John's hip and pulled it towards him and he let himself go, thrusting in just a few more times before coming into John. His body froze for a moment and then he opened eyes and looked down at John. He dropped against him, panting into his ear and hair.

"You're . . . so sexy, Sherlock." John pressed a kiss into his temple, panting softly.

"Shut up," Sherlock said softly, smiling, "It's you." He turned his head and kissed John's cheek.

"Nope. Definitely you." John stuck his tongue out and laughed softly. He always felt a bit high after being with Sherlock -- nothing he'd ever felt before.

"Fine, then -- us," Sherlock said. He wiped his hand on the sheet and then squeezed one arm underneath John to hold him. "I'm a bit sleepy now," he said. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay, love," he murmured. He pressed a kiss onto Sherlock's head again and relaxed beneath him with a small sigh.

Sherlock kicked his legs to push down the covers and then pulled them up. "Get in and get by me," he said in a sleepy voice. When John did, Sherlock curled against him and quickly fell to sleep.


	2. Someone New Arrives At The Flat

Sherlock woke a few times in the night -- the first time he got up to get a drink of water and then watched John sleep for a bit before drifting back off. The other times he just curled into John and stroked his hair until he was asleep again.

When John finally woke up in the morning, he immediately felt nervous about his old friend's arrival. Sherlock looked so lovely and peaceful sleeping beside him. He knew this was going to be tricky -- Sherlock didn't always do well with new people -- but he hoped Sherlock knew that he loved him. He lay still and watched him, petting his hair lightly. 

Sherlock felt John's touch and slowly opened his eyes. "Tea, please," he said softy and rolled over to sleep a bit more.

"Anniversary's over I see," John said, dragging himself out of bed and heading into the kitchen. He started the kettle and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms across his chest to keep his dressing gown closed. 

Sherlock was still sleepy so he didn't sit up until John came back in. He took a sip of the tea and said, "Will you be mad if I stay in bed a little longer? I won't sleep all day, but just another hour?"  
  
"That's fine," John nodded. "I have to get ready anyways."

Sherlock set the mug on his table and drifted off again. His mind was a little confused -- he hadn't thought John had to work so he didn't know what he was getting ready for, but he was too dozy to process it. He knew he could trust John to wake him in an hour if he didn't wake up on his own. He curled into John's pillow, which smelled of him, and went back to sleep.

John took a quick shower and ate some toast before coming back up to the bedroom. "Hey, he's going to be here soon so get up and ready, please," he said. John started looking through his clothes for something to wear, thinking that if he played everything casually Sherlock wouldn't think too much of it. 

Sherlock stretched and looked over at John. "Take your clothes off and come back to bed, please," he said. "I've got some 'candy' . . ." he raised his eyebrows up and pretended he was masturbating under the covers.

John smiled. "I can't right now, Sherlock. Remember yesterday I told you my friend is coming over? He's going to be here soon..."

"Right," Sherlock said, "Wait -- what?" He shook his head a little to wake himself up properly. "I'm sorry, don't get mad, I _was_ listening, I promise but who is coming and when?"

"A friend of mine from uni is coming into town and needs a place to stay. I offered him my room since I haven't used it in so long, just for the weekend." John heard the door and patted Sherlock's leg. "Come on, he's here." He left the room and went down to open the door. 

Sherlock felt all confused but as soon as John left, he got up quickly and dressed. He took a sip of the water and swished it around his mouth and fiddled with his hair in the mirror. He wasn't sure what to make of all this -- he wished he hadn't been so distracted with romance last night to have forgotten what John said he'd told him. Hopefully this guy will go out -- maybe he was in town to do something -- and Sherlock could get the whole story. He stepped outside the bedroom to join John.

John was just leading Tom upstairs when he spotted Sherlock in the living room. "Oh good," he smiled, tugging him closer. "Tom, this is my boyfriend, Sherlock. Sherlock, this is Tom."

Tom reached out his hand for Sherlock's. "Interesting name, good to meet you," he said, smiling.

Sherlock shook Tom's hand. He didn't really know what to say about his name, so he just kind of smiled and said, "Hello." He turned to John and said, "I'll put the kettle on." He looked at Tom quickly and then turned to go into the kitchen

John led Tom to the sofa, sitting there with him as they caught up. He was in town for work and figured it would be nice to drop by. "Have you always lived here?" Tom asked.

"No. Almost, though. Mike helped me find a roommate so I could stay in London."

"And then you moved in with Sherlock?"

"No, Sherlock was the roommate," John smiled. "We've had a long story," he said. 

Sherlock tried to listen to what they were talking about. Tom obviously knew Mike -- how? Was Tom also a doctor? He didn't seem like a doctor. Sherlock knew he could just go in there and ask but he felt so . . . what was the feeling? God, feelings could be such a pain sometimes. He put the teapot, milk, and sugar with three mugs onto a tray and carried it into the living room. It'd be awkward to squeeze in next to John on the sofa, though that's where he really wanted to be, so he sat in his chair after setting down the tray.

"Turn your chair a bit so you can be closer," John said. "We're not properly set up for guests."

Tom smiled. "Sherlock, what kind of work do you do?"

"Detective," Sherlock said. "Consulting detective. John helps sometimes. Are you a doctor?" he asked.

"Oh no," Tom laughed. "John was the smart one. I work in advertising -- I've been hired to find a prime promotional spot for a watch company that wants to advertise here in London," he said. 

"Oh, but you knew John at uni? And Mike? I know Mike. Where do you live now?" Sherlock could hear his voice and knew that it didn't sound conversational enough. It seemed like even when he was trying, it always sounded like he was questioning someone, rather than having a normal conversation. He didn't know precisely what to do: he knew John would want him to be normal and meet his old friend, but something inside was also telling him to just shut up and not sound so weird.

"I met Mike through John -- they were already friends. I don't really permanently live anywhere. Work keeps me travelling a lot -- sometimes it's a weekend like this and other times it can be months abroad."

"There's not always a friend to stay with," John said. 

Tom looked over at him and grinned. "No, there isn't, but I manage," he winked. "The company pays for my room." 

"Oh," Sherlock said, because he didn't know what else to say.

"This is a great place," Tom said. "I love the vibe."

Sherlock did not like Tom's use of the word vibe. But he tried to smile a bit. "It's home . . . since John's been here." He looked at John and smiled. He did love him. He just wanted to do what would make John happy, so he turned back to Tom and said, "The room upstairs is yours for the weekend."

"I really appreciate it. Like I said, they pay for my room if it's a bother but I haven't seen John in such a long time and I wanted to catch up," Tom explained.

John looked down at his mug now and when he looked up again he looked at Sherlock, smiling at him. "Maybe we can go out for dinner tonight -- that way Tom can see the town as well for work." He made sure to include the 'for work' part. 

"That'd be good," Sherlock said even though he just wished that Tom wasn't here in their world. This was John and Sherlock's -- he didn't want anyone else there. "We'll take you somewhere nice." He clung to his cup of tea.

"I do need shampoo -- clearly I'm used to the hotel supplying them -- is there a place nearby that I can get some for tomorrow?" Tom asked.

"Yes," John nodded. "Actually we're a bit low so we can just nip out now. Do you want to come with us?" he asked Sherlock. Tom was already heading to the door.

"Um, no, I'll stay here and get a shower in while you're gone," Sherlock said. He forgot he had just got up and worried that he smelled of last night. "Could you pick up the newspaper?"

"Sure, we'll get it," Tom said, helping John on with his coat. He dropped his arm to John's back as they walked out. "Great to meet you, Sherlock," he called.

"Okay then," Sherlock said, watching them.

"Hold on," John said, slipping away from Tom to give Sherlock a light kiss on the lips. "We won't be long, yeah?" he said softly and smiled.


	3. John's Past

John followed Tom out of the flat. "It's not very far," he explained.

"That's fine," Tom said. "So. Boyfriend, huh? I thought you were just trying it out."

John looked over at him and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I was. After you I was never with another guy. And then I met Sherlock," he said, smiling softly. 

"And are you trying him out?"

John looked up quickly now, holding his gaze. "I love him, Tom." God, he'd give everything he had for Tom not to say something like that at the flat. Maybe his staying with them wasn't such a good idea, but now it was too late to send him away. He hadn't expected this. 

Sherlock took the mugs and tray back to the kitchen and washed up. He went into the bedroom and made the bed. He bent down and smelled John on the pillow. He would try really hard with John's friend -- he'd try to be a good boyfriend. He'd try to seem normal. For John.

He moved to the bathroom and brushed his teeth before stepping into the shower. There was something . . . interesting about this Tom. He was suspicious of the way he smiled at John -- it was a different kind of smile. And the way he had touched John's back. It seemed . . . like the way Sherlock would touch John's back.

He lifted his head up into the hot water. He was just being too stupid: insecure, possessive, too intense. All the things that he'd worried about when he and John first got together. It didn't matter about this Tom: John loved Sherlock and Sherlock loved John.

He got out of the shower and looked at himself in the mirror. John always said he was handsome, but Tom was quite handsome. He was more like John -- fair complexion, light hair, same body type. Why would John like someone like Sherlock? He looked at his face again: it was harsh and dark. John was so lovely and kind. Sherlock shook his head at his face in the mirror and told himself to stop. John had known many people before knowing Sherlock: not every single one of them was going to woo John away from him. John loved Sherlock. It was just their anniversary. He told himself to stop being stupid. Then he got dressed and went to his desk to check his email.

"You said you wouldn't ever date a man," Tom pressed as John put some other things they needed into his basket. 

"Look, back then I didn't think I ever would. I was curious, we were drinking, it just sort of happened. I apologised so many times -- I thought this was done now."

"Yeah, it is. I'm just surprised," Tom said, getting in line with John. John watched him closely until they were outside where he faced forward. Hadn't Tom moved on? It had happened once so many years ago. He hoped Tom didn't think he could come here and win John back. Sherlock was John's whole life -- surely Tom would see that and back off. 

"Look, John," Tom said, grabbing his arm as they got back to the flat's door. "Honestly, it's all fine. I was just surprised -- sorry if I seemed nosy. He seems great, really. I'm glad you're happy." He smiled as they continued up the stairs.

Sherlock heard them on the stairs so he closed his laptop and started to stand but then thought that'd be odd, so he stayed seated. He smiled at John when he came through the door. "I was thinking," he said, "we could take Tom to that restaurant we went to when my parents came. The food was nice and it seemed like a fun place." Sherlock hoped John wouldn't be suspicious of his use of the word 'fun'. He was pretty sure he'd never said that word before in his life.

"Yes, I really like it there," John smiled. "Tom? Do you want to lay down or freshen up or anything?"

"I'm all right for now. I want to chat -- find out what you've been doing all this time. Find out more about Sherlock," he said. 

Sherlock tried to make what he thought was a normal friendly face, but he just was so bad at chats like this. He stood up and moved towards John, taking the bags from his hand. He squeezed it before walking off. "I'll put the kettle on and we can have a chat. John, did you get any snacks or anything?" That seemed like the kind of thing normal people did when they were going to have conversations like this.

"I bought some crisps," he said, moving into the kitchen to help him get things set up. He was glad that, for the moment, Tom stayed in the sitting room. "What do you think?" he asked quietly as he poured them into a large bowl. 

"Seems like a nice chap," Sherlock said, which wasn't a lie but hadn't been exactly what he was thinking. He looked over at John and said more honestly, "I don't really know what to say to him."

"Don't worry, he hardly stops talking. You just have to nod and smile a lot," John grinned. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock's cheek before bringing the crisps out. 

"So what is Mike up to anyways?" Tom asked.

"He works at St Bart's. That's how Sherlock knows him," John explained.

"Sherlock, I thought you were a detective? You work at the hospital, too?"

"I use the lab there," Sherlock said, as he brought in the tea. "And the morgue."

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Oh," he said. "And you met John at the hospital?"  
  
"Well, yes, Mike brought him to the lab. As John said, we both were looking for flatmates, and Mike introduced us," Sherlock said, lifting his mug.

"So you were flatmates before you got together?" Tom said. Sherlock thought the question seemed more directed towards John so Sherlock stopped talking.

"Yeah, for quite a long time," John said, smiling over at Sherlock. "It was definitely interesting -- much better than the empty little bedsit I used to live in."

"I can imagine," Tom said.

"I bet you can't," Sherlock said softly, smiling at John.

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

"Our cases," Sherlock said. "They've been quite unusual." He was thinking of John and the cabbie, their first case. He couldn't imagine Tom imagining that.

Tom smiled awkwardly. "No, you're right," he said, "I guess I meant the relationship developing . . . last I heard John was more into the ladies."  
  
Sherlock decided to let John respond to this one.

"I already explained when we went to the shop," John reminded Tom. "Anyways, I would come home from work looking for dinner and I would find a head in the fridge instead." He wanted to move away from the topic of his love life unless it had to do with Sherlock. He should have outright told Tom to keep it quiet, but that would make it seem like he'd done something shameful. It was long before Sherlock . . . but still, he didn't want Sherlock to find out from Tom's mouth.

Sherlock wondered what John and Tom had talked about at the shop, but he tried not to think about it. "It didn't take either of us long to know we belonged together," Sherlock said. "Because we do." He shifted a little in his chair and took another sip of tea. "So how long has it been since you two have seen each other?"

"University," Tom said, starting on the crisps. "We were close then, but after we graduated we lost touch."

"That happened with a lot of people," John said. "I didn't see Mike again until I was sent home from the war."

"Sent home?"

"I was shot," John said, tapping the place where his scar was. 

"Jesus," Tom said quietly. "I told you not to go," he said. John shrugged and sipped at his tea. 

Sherlock watched the way the two of them moved and looked at each other. He was sure it was different to the way John and Mike interacted. He tried to read Tom, but he wasn't really seeing anything worrying -- he did seem like a genuinely all right person. "So have you got someone?" Sherlock asked, "or is it too difficult with the travelling?"

"Too difficult with the travelling -- I wouldn't want to ask someone to wait for me all the time. But I'm not lonely," he smiled, drinking his tea and taking more crisps. 

"Someone in every port type of thing or are just relationships not for you?" Sherlock asked.

"I would like a relationship," Tom said, looking over at John. "Just not the right time, I suppose."

"Perhaps it will happen or perhaps it won't," Sherlock said. "I wasn't looking but I found John. If it weren't for him, I'd be on my own. I don't believe that everyone has a soulmate. John's the one who's got the more romantic notions like that, as I'm sure you know." Sherlock watched the two of them glance at each other and it made his heart hurt a little. "I mean, I presumed he's always been like that," Sherlock said. "Unless you think he's changed since uni."  
  
Tom smiled. "There are some thing that are the same about him," he said, "and some things that are different."

A small guilty feeling gnawed at the pit of John's stomach. He wasn't lying when he said Sherlock was the only man he ever wanted to be with. He'd been with Tom once after drinking too much and despite Tom wanting more, John wouldn't hear of it. It was just a one night stand to John. Sherlock made him feel alive, even after all this time. He didn't know how he'd explain if -- when -- Sherlock found out. 

"Well, I'm sure we've all changed since we were kids," Sherlock said, even though he knew there were a lot of things about him that were precisely the same. In fact, the only thing really that was different between Sherlock today and Sherlock at uni was John, that he loved John, that he loved someone else. He smiled at John.

It was quiet for a few minutes.

"John, if you don't mind," Sherlock said, before he had thought too much about the decision. "I think I'll head over to the hospital. I got an email from Molly, she's got something she wants me to see. I'll be home in time for us to go to dinner, I promise." He set his tea down. "I don't want to seem rude . . . but you two can get caught up about things I know nothing about while I'm gone. Do you mind if I go?"

"I -- no, that's okay," John said, not knowing what else he could say. He wondered how true it was -- if Sherlock was leaving because he knew something was going on that John hadn't told him about. _Nothing is going on, idiot. It was a long time ago._ "Whatever it is, don't bring it home," he teased, smiling up at him. 

"Don't let me disrupt your work," Tom said, smiling at Sherlock as well. 

"Should I invite Molly out with us? Perhaps Tom would like some company for the evening?" Sherlock asked.

"Like a double date?" John asked, shaking his head.  

"I'm gay," Tom said easily, smiling wider at Sherlock. He looked over at John before taking more crisps.

"If she would like to come hang out with us for a bit, I'm sure that would be fine," John said.  

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know," Sherlock said. "Well, Molly's nice, I'm sure you'd like her but I don't think I'll invite her. She doesn't need to get her hopes up just to be let down. She hasn't had the best of luck with men."

"That's a good idea, that poor girl has had enough heartbreak for a while," John agreed. 

Sherlock did a little stretch and then grabbed his phone. He moved to put on his coat. "I'll be back in a bit. Text me if you need anything." He moved over and kissed John goodbye.

John smiled and promised he would, kissing him back before he left. "Do you want more tea?" he asked Tom. 

"Yeah, sure," Tom said. He stood up and walked into the kitchen. "Look, John, I'm getting the sense that maybe Sherlock doesn't know about the little thing that happened between us . . . I didn't come here to make any trouble for you. You and I both know I was more interested in there being an 'us' that you were, but that was a long time ago. I can see you're happy with him -- I'm a bit jealous because he's got you, or maybe I'm just jealous that you two have each other since I've got nothing going on in that department. But honestly, I just wanted to see you, catch up -- but if you think my being here is a problem, I can get a hotel."

John shook his head. "No, Tom, it's not a problem. I just didn't get a chance to tell him yet, and I don't want him to find out from you. I want him to hear it from me. And back then, I wasn't lying when I said I didn't want a relationship with a man. I tried it and I thought it wasn't for me until . . . well, until Sherlock. I'm sorry."

Tom smiled. "It's all right, it hurt at the time, but that was twenty odd years ago, right? No offense, but I've kind of moved on," he laughed lightly. "It's just really good to see you and to see you doing so well. Especially after what you said happened in the war. Jesus, John, I'm sorry -- I didn't know."

John and Tom sat back down and started talking about all that had happened to each of them since they'd last seen each other.


	4. Sherlock, Don't Be A Jealous Idiot

At the lab, Sherlock looked through the microscope as Molly stood next to him. "So, was I right?"

Sherlock looked for a few more minutes and then pulled his head up. "No, you weren't, but could I ask you something?"  
  
Molly looked disappointed, but then remembered that it was Sherlock she was talking to -- he obviously had something on his mind and even if she had just discovered the cure for cancer, he probably wouldn't have noticed. "What?" she asked.

"Did John ever mention a Tom to you?" he said, watching her face.

John _had_ mentioned a Tom to Molly; it was when he was first coming to terms with his feelings for Sherlock and Molly was serving as his sounding board. He had asked her out for a drink (at first she thought it was a date and was incredibly disappointed when she realised the actual topic of conversation). The alcohol had loosened John's lips a little, and he confessed that he had 'tried it out' with some guy called Tom at uni. It had clearly meant nothing to him in terms of love -- it was all just an acknowledgement that John was open to being with a man -- and that's all that was ever said. 

But Molly was smart enough to know that if Sherlock was asking her, John had obviously never told Sherlock. And she was smart enough to know that she shouldn't be the one to divulge the information. And she was also smart enough to know that Sherlock was watching her every reaction.

So she turned sharply towards him and said, "You're in a grown up relationship now, Sherlock. If you want to know something about one of John's friends, you go ask John." She glanced down and then looked back, right into his eyes. "Go ahead and stare as long as you want, but that's all you're getting from me. If you're looking to read something, just know that whatever you think you've found is just as likely to be a figment of your imagination as it is the truth. Relationships aren't built on what you think you read, Sherlock. If it's bothering you, ask John." She pushed him a bit out of the way and went back to the microscope.

"It's not bothering me," Sherlock said.

She looked up at him and said, "Do you know what word I read when I look at you right now? It's the word 'liar'."

Sherlock busied himself with something on the table and then said, "I'm off."

Molly turned and more softly said, "John loves you, Sherlock. Don't be . . . an idiot."

He smiled weakly at her and left. Out on the street, he tried not to think but couldn't. He looked at his watch -- it was just gone five, which was pretty early for dinner. He didn't know if he should go back to the flat yet. He tried to take Molly's advice and got out his phone.

_I've finished. Should I come back? SH_

John told Tom a more detailed story of how he came to live with Sherlock and everything that happened between them, leading up to a romantic relationship. When his phone vibrated he smiled at the message.

_Of course you should. -JW_

Sherlock was pretty sure he was glad about that.

_See you in fifteen minutes then. SH xx_

He added the kisses for some reason. He headed home, but stopped in to see Mrs Hudson first.

"Come in," she said, opening her door, "I'm in the middle of baking."  
  
Sherlock went in and sat down at the table. Then he stood back up and got a glass of water.

"What's on your mind?" Mrs Hudson said, a little impatiently.

"Nothing," he said, "just stopping in to say hello." It was quiet for a moment. "John's got a visitor."

Mrs Hudson sighed as she lifted the pie into the oven. "And what's happening in Sherlock's head over this visitor?"

"Nothing," he said, "just that I don't know this person. He's an old friend from uni. Do you think that's an appropriate thing for a boyfriend to do?"

Mrs Hudson shook her head at Sherlock. "Why are you like this, Sherlock? Listen to what you are saying: an old friend of John's is visiting and you want me to say that's a problem? Did he surprise you with him -- that might be a little unthoughtful but still not that big of an issue."  
  
"He told me, well, he said he told me," Sherlock said quietly, not looking up.

"If John said he told you then he undoubtedly told you. Sherlock, the visitors you get to your flat often try to kill you. John bringing an old friend for a visit is nothing at all, you silly fool. Stop being jealous," she said, smiling at him.

"I'm not jealous," Sherlock said.

"You are if you're sitting down here instead of going upstairs. Why are you here -- is the guy horrible? He isn't, is he?"  
  
Sherlock shook his head softly.

"Stop being jealous and go upstairs," she said. She touched his shoulder softly, "I know you're not great with other people, Sherlock, but don't make this an issue. You have John to yourself all the time -- just let John have his friend and leave your insecurities alone."

Sherlock said, "You are a nosy busy body, Mrs Hudson. I don't know why I even bother."  
  
"Get out now," she said. "You're annoying me." She smiled at him and motioned towards the door.

Sherlock smiled back and headed upstairs. "Hi," he said to John and Tom as he hung up his coat.

"Hello," John smiled. "So what was it she wanted you to look at?"

Sherlock couldn't remember now. "She thought she'd had something figured out, but she was wrong," he said, pretty sure that was close enough. "What's been going on here? Catching up?" He was smiling as naturally as he could.

"Yes," John nodded. "I told Tom the whole story of us," he smiled.

"You're an interesting person, Sherlock. I can see why John's so enamoured," Tom said genuinely.

Sherlock didn't know if he should say thanks to that or not, so he said nothing. He moved over to stand by John and touched his hair a little. He realised he wished he could kiss John, take him into the bedroom like last night. He thought about last night and then thought about how stupid he'd been behaving. He knew John loved him. It'd just be a day or two and then he could have him back all to himself, just like Mrs Hudson said. 

"Are you hungry or not yet? Tom had a big breakfast so he says it's up to us," he said. 

"Whenever you want," Sherlock said. "I'm flexible. If we walk there, he could see some of the sights and we might be hungry by the time we arrive."

"Walking works, that way I can look for good spots," Tom said.

"Have you shown Tom the room?" Sherlock asked. "He can take his bags up. I want to go wash up and then we'll get going." He smiled and walked towards the bathroom. 

"Come on," John said, taking Tom's bag and leading him up. "This was my room before," he said pointlessly.

"I see," Tom said. "It's nice. It's a great flat really. You're lucky." He set his bag near the nightstand. "Thanks for all this, it's nice to have a friend in London -- but don't worry, I won't be visiting all the time. But you and Sherlock are being such nice hosts."

John smiled. "Any time. I'll let you settle in here and we can meet downstairs again." John left him and went into the sitting room, cleaning up a bit and washing the mugs they'd used.

Sherlock came out of the bathroom and saw John but no Tom. "John," he said quietly, "can you come into the bedroom with me for a minute?"

John smiled and headed over. "Is this for more candy?" he teased.

"Shh, don't say that out here," Sherlock pulled John through the door and shut them inside. He pushed John up against it and gave him a long kiss. "I'm sorry I overreact, John, but I just wanted to kiss you," he said and kissed him again. "I'm sorry I get worried for nothing."


	5. Awful Timing, John

Sherlock stepped back and said, "I think maybe I'll change my shirt. Since it's a special meal and all."  
  
"That's okay, love," John said. "Listen, while I have you here alone for a second -- remember the first time we had sex? And how I wasn't . . . totally a first timer . . . it's because I'd done it once -- just to try it. It was Tom. Once, back in uni I was curious and we got drunk and it was that one and only time." He looked up. "That's what I was trying to tell you before . . ."

Sherlock stopped moving until he realised he was no longer moving so he continued to button up his shirt. His head was full of questions. He wanted to ask if John had loved him, if they'd been a couple, but he was also not sure he wanted to know the answers. Then he heard Tom calling out "Hello?" so he turned and said, "Let's go to dinner then." He looked through John and then walked out of the bedroom.

"Sherlock --" John watched him go and sank down onto the bed, rubbing his face hard. "Damn it," he hissed at himself. He changed his shirt so he would have a reason to be in the room, to be late, and he followed Sherlock out. "Sorry, just wanted to change. Ready to go?" He looked at Sherlock. He wanted to touch him -- hold him, kiss him, anything. 

Sherlock looked over at the door. He didn't want to go. He wanted to insist this guy leave or maybe make John leave -- he wanted to talk to John but he also wanted to be alone. Basically, Sherlock wanted to do anything but go sit at dinner with John and Tom. But that's precisely what he had to go do. He put his coat and scarf on and opened the door to head out.

Tom slipped his own coat on. "Let me treat tonight, yeah? To say thank you." He waited at the door for John.

"Well, you're a guest so we'll see," John said. He could tell he sounded different, but he was trying not to -- he was trying to be kind and act like he was acting before. It was very difficult. 

Once they were all on the street, Sherlock said to Tom, "We're heading southeast -- any particular areas or streets you'd like us to go down? If we head over one, we'll go through a shopping precinct, that might be useful for you."

"Yeah, let's do that. I need streets with a lot of pedestrian traffic," he nodded. When they started walking, John caught up to Sherlock and took his hand. It was a normal thing couples did -- they would have held hands if Molly was there, or Greg, so they would now. He was hesitant and nervous, slipping his own hand into Sherlock's like it was the first time. 

Sherlock let John hold his hand. He still wasn't sure what he had decided about the information John shared, but he was in absolutely no position to decide right now. There was no use making a scene. He walked alongside next to John. But at one point, Tom hurried a bit ahead to look in a shop window. Sherlock really looked at Tom and an image of John and Tom together popped into his head and his heart started to ache. He dropped John's hand and covered his mouth as he made a little cough. Then he looked straight forward as they walked and stuck his hand into his pocket.

John's stomach twisted and he looked down at his hands, pushing them into his own pockets. "So . . .what do you think?" he asked Tom. 

"This looks great -- I'm going to get up early tomorrow and come out during the daytime as well, get a sense of what kind of traffic comes by here." 

"Great," John smiled lightly. 

Sherlock didn't feel like anything he could add would be necessary so he just walked on. When they got to the restaurant, he held the door open for Tom and then John and then followed them in. The server led them to a big booth: John sat on one side and Tom on the other. Sherlock slid in next to Tom.

"Oh, don't you want to sit by John? I don't mind, of course, but I just assumed," Tom said. 

John felt it like a slap to the face, and it took everything in him not to get up and walk out of there. He pulled the menu close and focused on that, not saying anything. 

"No," Sherlock said, "I always like sitting where I can see the door." A lie, of course, but saying 'I think I'm unable to look at your face without imagining what it looked like when you were coming into John" didn't seem terribly appropriate, so a lie would do. "Shall we get wine?"

"Sure," Tom nodded. "Do you sit watching the door so you can deduce people coming in? John's says its really something to see," he smiled. 

John looked up and looked between them. "He did it to me, when we first met. I thought Mike had told him about me -- it was incredible." He was looking at the menu again, unable to look at Sherlock. 

"It's all a trick really," Sherlock said aloud to the table. "Of course, there are some things one can never figure out on his own, there are some things that one needs to be told."

John tensed his jaw and kept his eyes fixed on the menu. The waitress came then and they ordered, sparing John having to answer. He pulled out his phone quickly and opened a text to Sherlock. 

_Don't play games in front of him. We can talk later. -JW_

He stuffed his phone away and poured the wine. Tom asked about the surgery and John told him about the sort of things he did there.

Sherlock decided not to look at his phone. It was obviously a text from John, but Sherlock was already struggling enough trying to keep control of his heart, head and mouth -- he couldn't risk a further complication. He let the two them talk, occasionally adding a sound like "Hm" to indicate that he was still part of the conversation. He drank his wine too fast; he waited as long as he could before pouring himself another glass.

When the food came John watched Tom try it, smiling when he said he liked it. John started on his own meal, trying to make more small talk. He felt awkward -- unsure if he should bring up memories now. Some slipped through but at least it was harmless things, almost always with Mike. He appreciated Tom keeping his word and sticking to safe topics. 

Sherlock watched John watch Tom and then he fiddled with his own food. The conversation was boring and awkward -- he wondered if it felt that way to the other two. Did Tom know that there was a problem? Suddenly it became really important to Sherlock to ensure that Tom did _not_ know; he did not want Tom to think that John's old boyfriend could just waltz in here and disrupt what he and John had (even though he kind of was). Sherlock started a topic of conversation.

"Where are you off to next, Tom?" he asked, trying to sound as sincerely interested as he could.

"Down to France," he smiled. "It'll be my first time there if you can believe it with all of the travelling I do but I'm really excited about it. Have you ever been?"

Thankful that Sherlock took over for a bit, John focused on his meal again, mixing it around more than he was eating it. He was replaying that night in uni over and over in his head, from the beginning to the end so he could tell Sherlock every detail. And even if he didn't want to hear it, he would so that this never happened again. 

"Paris? Yes, I know Paris well. In fact, I've got a few contacts there -- perhaps I could get in contact and you could get dinner with one? What kind of men do you like?" Sherlock asked.

Tom glanced at John but immediately looked to his food and took a bite. "I'll be a couple hours out of the city, but I'm sure I can find a pub or something." He looked back up at Sherlock and smiled. "I appreciate that," he said. "Like I said, dating is hard and I don't want them to be mad at you when I up and disappear."  

"All right," Sherlock said, "I just thought I'd offer -- I know people of all types, not all of whom are looking for long term relationships. Let me know if you change your mind," he went back to fiddling with his food. Then he looked up around the restaurant. "This is a nice place, don't you think?"

"Yes, I like it a lot," Tom nodded. "I told John I would pay as a thank you for letting me stay so don't try any tricks. John hid money in my backpack once since I wouldn't take it. I threw the thing out and never knew."

John smiled softly at the memory. "It was in an obvious spot."

"No one uses the small pocket on the strap, John," Tom smiled. 

Sherlock thought he might vomit. He couldn't make sense of any of the little bits of information the two of them were giving him. John slept with Tom but it was just one time? Now he finds out John gave Tom money? What had happened between them back then and why was John welcoming him back now in _their_ lives? He poured himself another glass of wine. "Sounds like a wonderful memory . . ." he mumbled. "Thanks for treating, I appreciate it," he tried to keep his voice appropriate, not too sarcastic nor too enthusiastic.

John pushed his plate away and sat back. "I'll take the rest home, I think," he said. He sipped at his wine and looked around the restaurant for something to do. 

"I'll be out early tomorrow, want me to bring anything home for breakfast?" Tom asked, finishing up. 

"Shame," Sherlock said. "I thought we could go out to a club or something . . ." He didn't even know what he was saying. He didn't know what he wanted to do. All he wanted was for none of this to have happened, but it all had and he didn't know what to do.

"A club?" Tom asked confused, looking between them. 

John looked at Sherlock. "We've never been before -- well, once for a case-- I don't know where that came from."

"I was just thinking we could do something special. Just an idea," Sherlock said. He finished his wine. "If you've got to get up early, it's fine. It was just an idea."

"Maybe tomorrow night? I don't leave until late on Monday," Tom suggested. 

"Whatever you two want," Sherlock said. He watched as John scooped his food into the take away box. When he finished, Sherlock stood up. When Tom got up, Sherlock helped him on with his coat, before turning to walk out. The cold air felt good on his skin, which was warm from the wine and the utter discomfort of this evening.

"Is something going on?" Tom asked as he put the money down on the table. John watched Sherlock waiting for them outside and he looked down, shaking his head. "Fuck John . . . should I say anything to him?"

"No!" John looked up and shook his head. "No. He and I can talk about it later," he said. "I'm sorry things are so weird -- I don't want you being uncomfortable."

"Don't worry about me, mate. I'll leave if it's easier . . . "

John shook his head. "We'll talk tonight and it'll be okay," he said, trying to convince himself as well. They walked out and met Sherlock. This time John stuffed his hands into his pockets and didn't try to take Sherlock's.

All three of them were quiet as they walked back. Sherlock knew it was clear that he'd ruined the evening; whether Tom knew why, he wasn't sure. When they got back to the flat, Sherlock put the kettle on. He took two cups to the sitting room for John and Tom but then said, "I think the food's upset my stomach a little. Or maybe it was the wine. I think I'll have an early night. See you in the morning, Tom. If there's anything you need, I'm sure John can show you where it is." Then he turned and went into the bedroom. He set his mug on the nightstand, undressed, and sat in bed in the dark, trying not to think.


	6. They Finally Have It Out

John looked back to where Sherlock disappeared, not even touching his tea. 

"Well, I'm exhausted," Tom said, following with the fakest yawn John had ever seen. "Go on, John. I've brought two books with me."

"I'm sorry -- thanks," he said, dumping his tea and leaving the mug in the sink. He went to their room and walked in without knocking, leaning against the closed door. He didn't turn on the lights. "I want to tell you what happened."

"I don't want to hear what happened, John," Sherlock said. He wished it could stop being now and they could close their eyes and it'd be two days from now and Tom would be gone and they could pretend none of it had happened. He picked up his mug and took a sip, holding it up to his face to feel its steam on his skin.

"Too bad," John said. He stayed against the door, stared off into the dark and spoke anyways. "He's gay. He always has been. Being friends with him meant that he would tell me about dates and stuff, the same way I would talk to him about girls. I was always curious. Then one night we got drunk and he started to hit on me. I kept trying to fight it off but I was curious. In the morning I felt . . . odd. I'd been with girls before but this was different. I had never looked at him like that -- he was a friend of mine. When he woke up he offered me a relationship and I turned him down. I didn't like him like that. I didn't even really like the sex. I knew I would never do it again." John swallowed hard and moved into the room, sitting on the very edge of the bed with his back to Sherlock. "When you and I first met -- that night at Angelo's -- that was the first time since then that I found myself thinking about a man like that. Initiating the thoughts . . . and then I fell in love with you and it's so . . . _good._ I feel so alive and happy with you. It feels right. I'm sorry you weren't my first, I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I haven't thought about it in years . . ." 

"I didn't hear any of that, John, because I said I didn't want to know," Sherlock said. "You seem to be mistaken about what the problem is. I was never entirely sure I was your first, you idiot, and besides god knows, I knew all about the shagging you got up to when you first moved in here. It's not that. It's that you brought an ex-lover into our home without even telling me first. In _our_ home, you and he had a secret from me. I was excluded from something . . . intimate, in our own home, John. And when it felt wrong to me, everyone just tried to convince me that I was stupid and jealous and immature, but I wasn't. I was _right_ because you betrayed me -- not by sleeping with him once twenty years ago. But by bringing him here and keeping your secret from me."

"No!" John said angrily, turning around now. "I started to tell you at dinner and you started flirting and playing games and I tried to tell you again in the morning and you just demanded tea and sent me away. Then he showed up earlier than I expected and I didn't have time when you woke up again. I'm sorry. Maybe I should have shouted over you at dinner -- shouted at you while you tried to sleep, but don't you dare accuse me of keeping secrets from you." 

"Wrong, John Watson. You could have told me -- if you really wanted me to know, you could have told me. You could have told me the minute you found out he was coming. You could have told me and you know it. But you didn't," he was trying to keep his voice low because he didn't want Tom to hear, but more so because he wanted to keep himself under control.

"I did! I got the text at work. I came home and was a bit thrown off by all of the stuff you had done, and then I tried to tell you. Next time I'll bloody tie you down and shout to make sure you listen."

"You're blaming me for this? I was trying to do something 'romantic' for you and this is the price I pay for that? You bringing secrets into our home?"

"Romantic? You wouldn't have had to if you hadn't forgotten our anniversary. I tried to tell you as soon as I found out," John said. He felt bad the second it came out but he continued anyways. "As soon as I could. I liked all of the things you did and I didn't want to spoil the dinner with something like that. I tried to after and you just started a game and I didn't get the right moment." 

Sherlock sat up a little more. "Is that why you did this? To pay me back for the anniversary thing? To purposefully make me feel bad because I unintentionally hurt you?"

"Yes. You caught me. I invited my ex-lover to stay with us because you forgot our anniversary. I should have known better -- you know me so well," John said sarcastically. He turned away from Sherlock and stood up, snatching up his pillow before remembering he couldn't sleep on the sofa. He shoved it back into place and sat on the floor instead.

"Get into bed, John, don't be stupid," Sherlock said.

"You're being stupid," John grumbled. It was childish, he knew, but he wrapped his arms around his knees and stayed where he was. 

"Look, let's make up. If it makes you feel any better, there's something I've not told you either, so I guess we're both in the wrong," Sherlock said, not turning towards him.

"What is it?" John asked, getting onto his knees and resting his chin on the bed.

"I've . . . been with someone else in this bed . . . someone you know," Sherlock said softly. "If I'm mad about your secret, I should confess mine."

John's stomach twisted painfully. A small part of him wondered of this was done kind of joke to get back at him but he tried to ignore that part. "Who?" He mumbled, thankful for the darkness.

"Does it matter? What name could I say that would make that pain in your stomach go away?"

John slumped back down beside the bed and leaned against it. "I'll never forgive you if you're making that up to get back at me," he mumbled.

"Yes, you will because of course I'm making it up -- you know everything, John Watson. _I_ don't keep secrets from you because I didn't think secrets were a part of what we are. For twenty seconds you thought I had a secret and it hurt. You've got experience with emotions, and it still hurt -- I don't have that experience, John. Yet you brought a secret into our home. Even if you didn't mean to, you did and it hurts." He stopped talking now because that was really all he had to say: John had hurt him. The first time really, but hurt was the reason Sherlock had avoided relationships and now it had finally found its way into this one.

John's vision blurred and he stood up quickly. "I love you more than anything and I'm sorry that I let my friend stay here. I'm sorry we have a past you don't like, and I'm sorry I didn't force you to listen to me." He stopped because his voice was shaking. He felt angry and sick. He turned and left the room, grabbing his jacket and leaving the flat completely. The night air was cool and for a moment he stood and let it hit his heated face. Then he started to walk. He had no destination in mind but he couldn't stay still. He simply walked and let his brain run on autopilot, hoping when he came back every thought about this whole weekend would be gone -- used up and out of his head. 

Sherlock didn't move as John left. He thought perhaps he should, but he didn't know for sure. That's the thing: Sherlock didn't know. Sherlock didn't know how to do these things. It had taken him forever just to be able to love John -- and he didn't even do that right, given he forgot the anniversary -- he certainly didn't know how to be hurt by John. By jealousy and being left out. He hated the hurt that had been in his stomach all evening.

He lay there quietly for a while -- it was probably just a few minutes but he wasn't sure. He picked up his phone.

_Come home. SH_

John read the message and stuffed the phone into his pocket. A few steps later he felt bad out right ignoring it, so he took it out again and typed back.

_I need some air. I'll be back later. -JW_

He knew he could have been more forceful about making Sherlock listen. He knew that was his fault. But lying just to make John feel bad was a low trick and he wouldn't forget it so easily.

Sherlock felt a wave of relief that John hadn't left him for good. He set his phone down and then he let himself cry. Today was horrible, it was all horrible, the hurt was horrible. He tried to cry it all out. 

John didn't know how long he'd been walking. He felt numb and tired inside, his mind hardly aware. He'd thought through every possible thing he could about the whole situation and now felt empty. He got a cab back to the flat, going inside quietly. He hung his jacket and slowly made his way back into the bedroom. His eyes were sore and puffy.

When the bedroom door opened, Sherlock sat up and said, "John," because he didn't know what else to say.

John crawled onto the bed and over to Sherlock, burying into his neck and wrapping his arms around him very tightly. He didn't say anything, simply breathing him in for a few moments.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John. "I'm sorry for what I said," he said quietly.

John's eyes blurred again and he squeezed them shut tightly. "I'm sorry for what I didn't say," he murmured softly. 

"I love you, John," Sherlock said, pressing his face against the top of John's head.

"I love you, too. I love you so much," John said, leading a kiss against his skin.

"I'm sorry I don't know how to do these things right," Sherlock whispered.

John sat up a bit and looked Sherlock in the eyes. "No one knows exactly how to make relationships work, Sherlock. Everyone makes mistake -- I make mistakes . . . but I wish you would believe me that your being in my life is right. You make everything just right for me, Sherlock. Just you . . . being you. Please believe me."  
  
Sherlock looked up at John. He was looking at the face of the only person he'd ever really loved. John Watson. "I believe you, John," he said softly, "I do."

John pulled Sherlock so they were lying down, keeping himself buried in his neck. He hoped nothing like this ever happened to them again and as he started to drift off, he pressed one more lazy kiss on Sherlock’s skin. This is how things were supposed to be and he was glad that he was able to make Sherlock see that -- that they had been able to get back to this.


End file.
